“We went back ten years and couldn’t find any record of children with that name going missing or dying.”
Emilie looked at the sketch of the Taker. “Go back further. He’s at least my age, if not older.”
“She could have been a sister,” Ronson said.
“It’s a long shot,” Avery countered.
“One that’s worth taking. We need all the information we can get.”
“Where exactly was Marie Adrieux found?” Jeremy still stared at Adrieux’s picture.
“In a low-lying field in the Cane River Valley area. A hundred feet or so from the river. Smack in the middle of plantation alley,” Ronson said.
“Plantation alley?”
“The Cane River Valley is a historical area heralded for its plantations,” Emilie said. “Many of them are restored and are big tourist attractions.”
“They never found his hideout.” Avery put the picture of Adrieux back into the folder. “From the looks of her, she was kept somewhere very primitive, most likely underground. He definitely put a lot of time into planning her abduction.”
“How’d she die?”
“You don’t need the details.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Strangled. There’s evidence he revived her more than once.”
“So he wasn’t sure he really wanted to kill her?”
“He was torturing her,” Ronson said. “We’ve seen it before, especially in serial homicides.”
“Because she didn’t want him.” She wondered what Marie’s last days were like. Had she known her ultimate fate? Had she done anything to save herself? Maybe she had complied but the Taker was too smart to be fooled.
“She wasn’t sexually assaulted,” Avery said.
“Why?” Jeremy asked. “Isn’t that what he wanted her for?”
“He’s not sexually motivated,” Ronson answered. “He’s trying to replace something he lost, and he wants the affection in return. Physically forcing himself on her would have given him no gratification.”
“Then what would have?” Emilie couldn’t understand how the Taker’s motivations weren’t sexual. He’d had a hard-on when he dragged her into the basement.
“Compliance. Attention. Interest,” Ronson said. “He wanted her to love him.”
“But wouldn’t that lead to him wanting sex? If he thought she felt the same?”
“Possibly.” Ronson looked directly at Emilie. “But making him believe the feeling is truly mutual would have been Marie’s only chance at survival.”
“How was she supposed to know that?” Jeremy asked.
“By taking her cues from him. Paying attention to what he says and does. Making him feel rejected in any form would have been a fatal mistake.”
“What about forensic evidence?” Jeremy asked. “There had to have been some.”
“There was. But the FBI had nothing to match it to until now. Hair taken from Emilie’s blouse matches hair found on Marie’s body. Your mother also managed to scratch him. It’s the same guy.”
“So you have a DNA profile?”
“He’s not in CODIS,” Avery said. “Until we get a suspect to match it to, the DNA is worthless.”
The only way to get anything concrete on the Taker was for him to make a mistake. Or attempt to grab her again. Emilie shuddered.
“Agents are looking at all the suspects in Marie’s case and trying to find matches here, but there are a lot of people to go through,” Ronson said. “Good thing is we’ve got this composite without any facial hair now. We’re hitting the streets with it. I’m sending a squad back into the tunnels as well. Someone’s seen this prick. It’s only a matter of time.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Julian drove past the hookers strolling Bonanza Road and pulled the clunking old Chevy Malibu into one of the many in-and-out motels in the area. He’d purchased the car for two hundred dollars cash at an auction. His black Lexus stood out like a rose in a neglected flowerbed.
The motel consisted of a dingy office and eight “bungalows”: small boxes with creaking beds and dirty bathrooms. It was a high traffic–area full of people with their own secrets.
Julian and his informant had been coming to the same motel since meeting through HELP of Southern Nevada, a program designed to help individuals and families overcome various hardships . Julian had been happy to sponsor the informant’s new lease on life in return for a few favors.
He parked in front of the last room and killed the rattling engine. It continued to knock as he walked to the door. The Chevy was soon destined for the junkyard.
The informant opened the door. “You’re late. I’ve been here twenty minutes already.”
Julian took care not to touch anything in the soiled room. God only knew how much bodily fluid lay about. “Pardon my tardiness. I had a last-minute client.”
“Whatever. I don’t know why this couldn’t be done on the phone.”
“I explained that already. Even a disposable phone can be traced back to a tower. We don’t want to give the police any kind of starting point, do we?” Julian made it a point to stay one step ahead of the cops at all times.
“Guess not.”
“So, what do you have for me? I trust it’s good news.”
“Good for Davis. Not so good for you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Something’s going on between her and the cop. She was in the boss’s office today talking about how good he was for her. When she was harassed about it, she didn’t deny it. Said it was no one’s business.”
“I see.”
“Thing is, I didn’t need to hear any of that to know she’s got the hots for him. The look on her face when his name was mentioned was more than enough. It was sickening.”
Sickening indeed. Emilie’s betrayal enraged him. Didn’t she understand yet? Didn’t she care about all he’d done for her? She would be harder to tame than expected, and Julian would be devastated if she went the way of the last girl.
He couldn’t allow that to happen. Emilie was too perfect, their match undeniable. This time, he would have more patience, counseling her as to her true destiny. She would acquiesce. She must.
“You got my money?” The informant stood with crossed arms, foot tapping. She reeked of smoke as usual. “I got you the information. You promised me payment.”
Julian coughed and withdrew the bulky envelope tucked underneath his arm. “Your reward, as promised.”
It was time to tie up some loose ends.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Has anyone told you why the coroner hasn’t released her yet? It’s been nearly a week.”
Emilie swallowed two aspirin dry. “Tomorrow.”
“Good.” Sam sounded exhausted. “I just want to put this awful mess behind me.”
“You and me both.”
“By the way, the PI found out Mark Chambers moved to Dallas about a decade ago. He’s moved his search down there.”
“Keep me updated.”
A red-faced Lisa suddenly appeared in Emilie’s doorway. “Did you sic that FBI Agent on me?”
“Sam, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Be careful out there.”
“I will, I promise.”
Lisa swung the door shut. Her painted lips curled into a hateful sneer. She tapped her index finger on the edge of Emilie’s desk. “Well, did you?”
Emilie closed the report she’d been working on. “I told Agent Ronson you may be the Taker’s informant, yes.”
“Why the hell would you do that? Do I look like someone who associates with psychos?”
“No, but you act like it.”
“You’re crazy. Or are you just trying to destroy my life?”
“Your life? I’m the one with the stalker. You’re the one making threats.”
“What threats?”
“Innuendos, whatever you want to call them,” Emilie said. “You’re enjoying my suffering, and you’re the only person I know cruel enough to want to see me gone.”
“I may not like you, but I’m not a criminal.”
“Then I’m sure Agent Ronson will see that.”
“She’s questioning my family and friends, Davis.” Lisa clutched her head with both hands. Some of her blond hair slipped from the knot she wore. “Snooping around my neighborhood. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”
“Sorry to inconvenience you, but the Taker killed my mother and is determined to kidnap me. I want to know who’s helping him.”
“And you don’t care whose life you screw up along the way. Typical.”
“I’ve done nothing to you.”
Lisa’s eyes narrowed. “You stole my job.
I
should be sitting in that chair right now, but you sucked up to Jeremy and did God knows what else to get that promotion.”
Emilie’s office chair hit the wall with a thud as she jumped to her feet. “You didn’t get that promotion because you treat people like crap. No one likes you. No one wants to work for you. And if you’re implying that there’s anything other than friendship between Jeremy and me, you’re absolutely out of line.” She thrust her finger in Lisa’s face. “I am your boss, and I can
fire you.”
“You don’t need to. I quit.”
“Fine. I’ll need a letter of resignation, your keys, and your parking pass. Should I consider this your two-weeks’ notice, or do I assume you’re foregoing any chance at a decent reference?”
Lisa yanked a pink lighter out of her pocket. “I need a smoke.”
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Davis. And not all of them are bad.” Lisa stormed out, the sound of her heels ricocheting through the lobby as she made a beeline for the back doors.
Her cellphone rang. Emilie nearly threw it against the wall.
“Agent Ronson.”
“Are you missing an employee today?”
“Mollie. She hasn’t come in yet. Hasn’t called either, which is unusual.”
“I think we may have found her.”
* * * *
“She fooled us all. I didn’t have a clue.”
Nathan stepped off the treadmill and headed for the locker room. Chattering cops and loud music in the station’s exercise room made it nearly impossible to hear Emilie. He pressed his phone against his ear. “Ronson’s sure she’s the Taker’s informant?”
“She left a full confession. Probably coerced by her killer.”
He closed the locker room door. “Start from the beginning.”
“The manager at the Cascade Motel on Bonanza discovered her body after he realized she’d exceeded the hour she’d paid. Her throat was slit.”
“Mollie?” Nathan asked. “The teller?”
“Yes.”
“When was she hired?”
“Just a few weeks before the robbery. Her background checked out. She was nice. Normal.”
“She was an expert con artist.”
“She also had help.”
“The Taker.”
“It was all in the confession.” Emilie’s voice had dropped to a monotone. “He found her working on the street, took her in, gave her money. Guess he didn’t help her kick her meth habit, though. They found some in her purse. Ronson said that’s probably how he controlled her.”
“What else did the confession say?”
“Robbing the bank was supposed to be a big score. Mollie wanted her share of the money, or she was going to the police.”
“Did she know you were his target?”
“Ronson doesn’t think so. The note says she just figured the Taker decided to kidnap me on the fly and that I was going to be a casualty. She didn’t care as long as she had her money.”
“She was so nice,” Emilie sobbed. “Always had a smile on her face. I can’t believe she could be as callous as the note sounds.”
“You’d be surprised at different masks people can wear. Some of the world’s worst criminals appeared perfectly normal.”
“Ronson says the Taker probably dictated the note, so we’re likely not getting the full story.”
Jesus Christ. Just when Nathan thought the Taker couldn’t get any more complicated, he turned things upside down again.
“Maybe Mollie fought back. Did she have anything underneath her fingernails?”
“Ronson said probably, but it will be several days before she finds out if it matches the DNA found with Marie Adrieux, me, and Claire. And there’s still no suspect to compare it to.”
A raw, aching gasp echoed through the receiver. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. How many more people are going to die before he makes his move?”
“No one,” Nathan said. “His informant is gone. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”
“Until he decides someone else is in his way. I should just go to the tunnels and let him take me.”
“You’re at Jeremy’s, right? I’m coming over.”
“You can’t.”
“I’m not going to hang around while you’re feeling guilty and terrified.”
“I’m too selfish to say no.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
* * * *
Emilie padded through the quiet house. It should have been full of the sounds of a happy family, but because of her, Sarah and the kids had been banished from their home.
Because of the Taker. He was the bad guy, not Emilie.
She stopped in front of a closed door. Jeremy had taken the news of Mollie’s betrayal hard and shut himself in his private office. Everyone’s lives were falling apart. How hadn’t she seen Mollie for what she was?
She knocked on the heavy oak door and then pushed it open.
“Emilie.” Jeremy sat in a worn armchair with a bottle of gin next to him. “I was just going to yell for you.” He waved toward the sofa. “We need to talk.”
She looked around the room. It was tidier than she’d ever seen it. Even Jeremy’s desk was clear. “Why are you drinking? You never drink.”
“Figured now was the time to start living it up.” He poured a shot and thrust it toward her. Some of the liquor slopped onto the floor.
“I don’t feel like celebrating.” She set the glass on his desk. “Nathan’s coming over.”
“Good, that’s good. You’ll need him here.”
A sheen of sweat covered Jeremy’s face and dark circles ringed his eyes. “You’ve lost weight.” She had been so preoccupied with her own problems she hadn’t noticed until now.
“Stress has that benefit.” He threw back another shot and coughed. “Damn, that’s strong.”
“I’m sorry.” Emilie moved the bottle of gin out of his reach. “Your wife and kids had to leave, and you’ve been worrying about me. I never intended for you to become so involved in my screwed up life.”
“I’ve been involved from the very friggin’ beginning.”
“Only because I leaned on you too much.”